Freaky Friday
by Lalamegz
Summary: Freaky Friday, Harry Potter style. One day, Ron wakes up as Hermione ... see what chaos ensues.
1. Where Freakiness Begins

Freaky Friday  
  
Disclaimer: Well. Here we are. Heh. It's taken me long enough to get a story up here, but there you are. I didn't create any characters I have written about - just the mad storyline for this mini fiction. So don't sue me, I'm just a humble, bored teenager. :-) Also, this is a kind of Harry Potter version of the film Freaky Friday, and I didn't create that either.  
  
Note: Thanks to the Love Actually soundtrack, which is what I'm listening to as I write this ... heh.   
  
Chapter One - Where Freakiness Begins  
  
"Baby I'm too lost in you, caught in you, lost in everything about you - so deep, I can't sleep - I can't breathe - I just think about the things that you do ..." - Sugababes "Too Lost In You".  
  
The last thing Ron Weasley was thinking about, on the eventful morning of Friday 27th of December, was being someone else.  
  
Which was partly why he was so surprised when it turned out that he was. He opened his eyes, expecting to be in the dark, messy room that belonged to him, right at the top of the Burrow, which was the Weasley family's "home base".   
  
But of course, he wasn't.  
  
He shut his eyes straight away, surprised by the amount of light around him. His mother never opened his curtains before he had woken up - she knew how grumpy he got when people disturbed his sleep in the holidays. So why was there cold, brisk, wintery sunlight streaming through his windows?  
  
He opened his eyes again, lifting his arms to rub them before looking around again. Maybe, he thought, he needed glasses. Because, as he looked around, his bed was facing the wrong way. Instead of being directly opposite a window, it was right by one.  
  
A huge window, that wasn't his.  
  
He sat upright, looking around. The first rational thought that cut across his panic was: Where are my Chudley Cannons Posters? There was no orange to be seen in this room. Just a cool, even, light blue - everywhere. The walls were light blue, the floor was polished wood, and the furniture was a very light shade of pine. White, smooth net curtains flowed in the breeze that swept through the window, and there were slightly darker blue curtains that had been tied back with beads.  
  
This definitely was not his room.  
  
The bed had the same colour sheets as the curtains, and there were drapes across it. Drapes! Just like at school. But they were light and semi- transparent, and not closed. There was a large picture of an underwater scene in a blue frame on the wall, but apart from that, there were no posters or pictures anywhere. There were blue beads covering a pine door on the other side of the room.  
  
Completely stunned, Ron's mouth dropped open. A slight jingling noise made him jump, and he looked around to see a wind chime dangling over his head. Shaking, he lifted his arm to touch it - and then let out a yelp of shock.  
  
That arm wasn't his, either. It had hardly any freckles, and was a tiny bit darker than his skin. His hands had neatly filed, slightly shiny nails, longer than his bitten ones. His eyes widening, he looked down at himself. He wasn't wearing maroon pyjamas. He was wearing a white nightie, that wasn't his, either.  
  
Ron was in such shock by this point that he thought his eyeballs were going to fall out of their sockets. Then - as though the world was deliberately trying to scare the life out of him - some music started playing, out of no where, a tune that he didn't recognize. It was bouncy and bright, and being sung by girls.  
  
"The time is nine forty-five, and you're listening to Spark FM. For those of you who have just tuned in, we've got non-stop music fresh from the charts until eleven - so keep yourself tuned in!"  
  
He stood up and walked over to a strange looking contraption on the bedside table. It was blue, shiny, and had numbers that glowed a neon turquoise: "9:47". The sound was coming from it.  
  
It's a clock, he thought. A very strange clock. With sounds in it.  
  
A new song started. It was slower and had a nice, even drum beat in the background. It took a few moments for Ron to realize it was a radio of some kind.  
  
Maybe it was a new thing. After all, his family didn't have a lot of money for these kind of things.  
  
My family, Ron thought. The thought that he wasn't him, and wasn't in his room, or by the looks of it, his house, hit him with such force that he flopped back onto the bed - which also wasn't his - and leant against the pillows.  
  
Okay, he thought, It's time to see who I am.  
  
He sat up again, looking around for some kind of mirror. He finally spotted a large, wavy one, hanging on the wall. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to it.  
  
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!"  
  
******* Hermione sat bolt upright.  
  
At once, she sensed that she wasn't where she was supposed to be. For one thing, it wasn't light enough. The curtains were still pulled, which was highly unusual. Her mother usually took care of that. She came in, opened her curtains, left a fresh glass of water beside her bed, and left again. It was their morning ritual. It wasn't going to change for anything.  
  
Mum, she thought wildly, Dad!  
  
Terrified that something had happened to them, she sat up. She turned around. Her wind chime wasn't there. In fact, her window wasn't there.  
  
Then she sensed something else. Her nose crinkled up as she took in a deep breath.  
  
It didn't smell like her room, at all. Her room smelt of flowers, and freshness. This room - well - didn't. It felt like mess, and damp, like a cage in a zoo - she could smell some rotting food somewhere, she was sure of it. This didn't tie in very well with her.  
  
Squinting, she stood up. And the first thing she noticed was a strange draught around her ankles. Glancing down, she let a terrified whimper, as she saw herself wearing velvety red pyjamas.  
  
She sank back down onto the bed and leapt back up again as she heard something crack. Her hand delved under the covers and she pulled out a plastic version of her almost-boyfriend, Viktor Krum.  
  
Her eyes widened as he hopped around the palm of her hand, holding the leg that she had accidentally broken. He looked up at her, and gave her a pained sort of grimace.  
  
Hermione dropped Krum like he was burning her, and stared down at herself. She quickly found an old, dusty mirror hidden in the mess that spanned the room, and let out a yelp in a voice that was much deeper than hers.  
  
She was Hermione Granger. In Ron Weasley's body.  
  
"Ron!"   
  
Hermione gasped, staring around at the door. Then something else caught her attention. She had forgotten how many bright orange Chudley Cannons posters there were in Ron's room. It was giving her a headache.  
  
She thought for a moment of diving under Ron's bed - if she could get under there, with all the stuff he had apparently shoved there - and hiding until whoever was shouting Ron's name went away. But then she remembered - she WAS Ron. Kind of. So there wasn't a lot of point of hiding.  
  
"Erm - yes?"  
  
"Breakfast's ready, love. Get yourself up."  
  
"Erm -" Hermione stammered, not used to using Ron's voice, "Okay! I'll be down in - just a moment -"  
  
She waited, her heart - Ron's heart! - hammering in her - his! - chest. Something very strange was happening here. It was obviously some kind of magic, maybe as a joke - but she had never read about any charm that would make you switch places with someone. The first thought that came to her was Polyjuice Potion - but then again, if it was, it would wear off at any moment, and how did whoever was responsible for her change manage to get her to drink it without her noticing? And how did they get her to Ron's house? No, it couldn't be Polyjuice Potion. It must have been something else.  
  
She wanted to sit in front of her computer with a stack of books and research for hours until she found out what happened to her, but she was, after all, in Ron's house. The chances of having a book describing her problem were very slim, and the chances of them having a computer were even slimmer. She tried pottering around looking for books anyway, but she got as far as "Martin Minks, the Mad Muggle Annual" before giving up.  
  
"RON!" bellowed a male voice. It sounded like Fred, or George. "Mum says your bacon's getting cold. What're you doing in there, anyway?"  
  
There was a mutter and a few sarcastic laughs, and then footsteps down the stairs. Hermione sighed. She needed to get ready for breakfast, or things would look suspicious. She couldn't tell the Weasley family - for one thing, they wouldn't believe her, and for another, even if they did, they would probably find it hysterically funny anyway.  
  
So she eventually found Ron's wardrobe - the only empty space in the room - with a few items of clothing that looked as though they had never been worn. There was a pair of neat blue jeans and a blue shirt. She grabbed a pair of underwear - thinking, oh God! - and hurriedly got changed, not looking at herself. When she had done, she looked in the mirror, and tried to sort out her hair.   
  
Looking a bit more presentable, she walked out, found a bathroom, and had a quick wash before going down the few flights of stairs to the Weasley kitchen. Feeling terrified, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.  
  
"Morning, Ron!" Several people chorused. With a quick glance, Hermione saw Mr and Mrs Weasley, Fred, George, Percy and Ginny all sat around the table. Bill and Charlie weren't there. Wondering whether she should act surprised by this or not, she tentatively sat down in front of a bulging plate. It had about five slices of bacon, three sausages, several slices of fried bread, tomatoes, beans and eggs.  
  
How on Earth do you eat this, Ron? she thought desperately, staring at the plate. Everyone else seemed to be wolfing down their breakfast. She hated eggs - how was she going to get away without eating them? The family ate and chattered, and Hermione didn't really trust herself to speak, so she stayed silent most of the time. She knew that eventually, people would start talking to her, and she was bracing herself for it.  
  
She still felt terrified when Ginny looked at her and said, "Ron, what are you wearing?"  
  
Most of the family turned to stare at him. Fred sniggered.  
  
"You look very stylish, Ron."  
  
"It was the only clean thing I could find!" Hermione said defensively. She regretted speaking straight away and wondered if she had said the wrong thing.  
  
However, it seemed to go down well with the Weasley's, who just smiled, shrugged, and moved on to other topics of conversation. Sighing in relief, Hermione concentrated on her breakfast. She managed to eat the eggs - barely - so it seemed that she still had her own taste buds as well as her own personality.  
  
Feeling bloated, she picked up her nearly empty plate and finished glass of orange juice and put it by the sink. Mrs Weasley turned to her, so suddenly that it made her jump, and she - he, even! - blushed.  
  
"Are you feeling alright, dear?"  
  
"Fine! I'm - fine. Why?" Hermione gabbled, losing her cool.  
  
"It's just - you're dressed for breakfast, and didn't moan at me when I woke you up - and now you're bringing your plate to the sink." Mrs Weasley frowned.  
  
God, Ron is lazy, Hermione thought. He had better not treat my mother like that.  
  
It suddenly hit her.  
  
Ron was in Hermione's body.  
  
"Oh I'm fine! Fine, fine, fine. Never better. Erm, I'm just feeling - erm - happy! Happy, erm, that's the one. Yes, happy, happy, happy. Um, I'm going to go - erm - go." She waved over-enthusiastically at a startled Mrs Weasley. "Thanks for breakfast!"  
  
And she ran off as fast as she could.  
  
Once she got back to Ron's room, she scrambled around for a piece of parchment for about half an hour before she found one that didn't have old notes or "DIE, MALFOY, DIE" written on it. She found a quill and ink and hastily wrote:  
  
Ron,  
  
Yes, Ron, because I know you're there,  
  
What on earth is going on? Are you in my body? If so, can you get out, please? We have to meet up immediately. Erm - tell my mum and dad that - erm - you're meeting Ginny in Diagon Alley. Get them to drop you off. I'll take Floo Powder or something, pretend I'm meeting Dean. You are friends with Dean, aren't you? Your parents will let me, won't they? I haven't told anyone. I hope you haven't. Try not to act too conspicuous.  
  
Hermione  
  
P.S - You are so ungrateful to your parents! Your mother looked as though she was going to faint when I cleared the table. Honestly. You had better not be like that with my parents.  
  
She sealed the parchment, grabbed Pigwidgeon, Ron's owl, and said "Take this to R-Hermione."  
  
He hooted excitedly and fluttered out of the window at great speed.  
  
You had better not read my diary, Ron Weasley! 


	2. Where Bizareness Extends

Disclaimer: Well. Here we are. Heh. It's taken me long enough to get a story up here, but there you are. I didn't create any characters I have written about - just the mad storyline for this mini fiction. So don't sue me, I'm just a humble, bored teenager. :-) Also, this is a kind of Harry Potter version of the film Freaky Friday, and I didn't create that either. Note: Thank you reviewers for reviewing, also for telling me that this chapter came out as one big paragraph! I don't really know what happened, but I'm hoping this has fixed it. Thanks again :-D  
Chapter Two - Where All Bizarreness Extends Ron stared.  
  
Hermione had been rambling for the last five minutes or so, and he hadn't heard a word of it. His mind had been wandering even more than usual. He was watching his mouth move, and speak words that Ron himself would never speak, in a style, accent and tone that he would never use.   
  
It was bizarre, to say the least.  
  
To know that everyone else thought that it was Ron Weasley whispering furiously in the corner of the Public Library in Diagon Alley, and to know that it was actually Hermione Granger was even more bizarre.  
  
So it wasn't surprising, really, that he wasn't listening. He was thinking about the strange morning that he had had. He had received Hermione's owl and - feeling insulted on the slur on how he treated his family - he had scrambled downstairs to ask Mr and Mrs Granger if he could have a lift.  
  
And they said yes.  
  
After a very long argument with the voices in his head about Hermione's clothes, he managed to put on a long denim skirt, trainers, and a blue jumper, with one of her coats over the top. This was the one thing that Hermione didn't have to criticize.  
  
Meanwhile, Ron was furious with her. How dare she put on those jeans and that shirt! It made him look like a complete berk. His brothers must have been wetting themselves. He had gotten that outfit from an auntie of his for Christmas, and he hated it so much that he had never worn it. And there he was, sitting there, wearing it. Looking completely stupid, and un-Ron like.  
  
But he didn't have time to tell her off about it, because she was babbling.  
  
"... so I was thinking maybe a charm, because a Potion would be silly - surely we would have noticed - I've never heard of a Potion that the drinker can't feel drinking. Like the Polyjuice Potion. I mean, that tasted and felt disgusting. Unless someone tried to hide it. I mean we have to think about the purpose of the thing first, I suppose. Before we think about how we got like this. I mean, it's strange, isn't it? Maybe a prank. Do you think Fred and George could have - Ron? Ron! Are you listening to me at all?"  
  
Ron blinked.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Ron!" Hermione snapped. "Pay attention. This is serious!"   
  
"I know it is. My head's spinning. Can't you slow down a bit?"  
  
"Alright." Hermione sighed. "We - have - to - think - of - the -"  
  
"I mean, speak normally. Not like you've got ten seconds to explain the meaning of life."  
  
Hermione looked put out. Which was strange in Ron's face. Ron made a mental note: he looked stupid when he pouted.  
  
"We have to think of the reason why someone would do this. Unless we accidentally did it? I think we should get a piece of parchment and write all the possibilities of who would have made us like this and why." Hermione said all of this without breathing, and then inhaled deeply when she had finished. Ron blinked.  
  
"Got some parchment, then?"  
  
"No..." Hermione said, thoughtfully. "I didn't think of that, to be honest. I'll go and get some."  
  
She wandered off, giving Ron the chance to look around. He was in awe at the size of the Public Library. He thought the one in Hogwarts was big - this was humongous. It was probably about five times bigger than the library at school, with thousands upon thousands upon thousands of shelves of books, stretching right up to the top of the enormous ceiling, where a few large lights glowed down on them. There were dozens of sofas and comfy chairs with huge tables in front of them. Hermione had picked a table right in the corner, where they wouldn't be seen.   
  
He settled into the back of his armchair. Hermione came back with five rolls of parchment.  
  
"Where did you get that from?" he asked lazily.  
  
"You can buy it. And don't slump!"  
  
Ron stayed where he was, scowling. "You're not my mother, Hermione. And how exactly did you buy it? I'm not full of money."  
  
"I know. I took some from my purse."   
  
She pointed to where the little denim purse with a butterfly stitched on it lay, on the table, where Ron had set it before.  
  
"Oh." he said.  
  
"And I know I'm not you're mother - but I don't sit like that, do I? I don't want people to think I've morphed into some lazy simpleton."  
  
Ron blinked. "Oi! I'm not a lazy simpleton."  
  
"I know, I didn't mean it like that." Hermione said, looking distracted.  
  
"So you think this is all happy for me, do you? I don't want people to think I'm a stuck-up bookworm." Ron snapped.  
  
Hermione looked up at him. There was cold look in her - well, Ron's - eyes. She stared at him for a very long moment, looking genuinely hurt.  
  
"Sorry." Ron muttered. He sat up. "I didn't mean to say that. I'm just a bit stressed out."  
  
Hermione nodded, but didn't say anything to his apology. "Right. Let's think. Wait a minute," she said, looking as though she had just had a new thought. "Do you think we should tell someone?"  
  
"Like who?" Ron queried. "Do you really think that anyone's going to believe us anyway?  
  
Hermione looked thoughtful. Ron made another mental note: looking thoughtful didn't suit him. "Well ... you might be right. Actually, yes. I don't think we should tell anyone until we've done some independent study. I mean, it would be so much more hassle if Dumbledore and McGonagoll and your parents and my parents knew. Everyone would make such a big fuss. I just want life to stay as normal as possible."  
  
"I just don't want to be researching over the Christmas holidays." Ron muttered, but not loudly enough for Hermione to hear him.  
  
"Now. We're going to have to be each other while we research, I suppose. It won't be too hard for you, your parents are used to me working all the time."  
  
Ron blinked, thinking. And then he realised that could be taken as an insult.  
  
"I do work!" he protested. "Sometimes."  
  
"Well, you're going to have to now. Pretend you've got a big potions essay, or something." Hermione was looking thoughtful again. Ron winced. "Now ... what about you? Have you made any plans with people?"  
  
"Harry's coming to stay for the last three days of the holiday." Ron said. "Hey, do you think we should tell Harry?"  
  
Hermione fell silent. Ron thought about Harry knowing. The three of them were best friends ... they told each other everything.  
  
But him knowing such a humiliating thing about them both was a bit too hard for Ron to handle.  
  
"I don't think we should," Hermione said eventually. Ron wondered if she was worried about being embarrassed, too. "At least, not until we've fixed it."  
  
Ron nodded.  
  
"And I'm meeting Seamus, Dean and Neville on Monday."  
  
Hermione sighed. "I haven't made any plans as yet."  
  
"What about your parents?"  
  
"They're going to the Annual Dentistry Practice Convention on Sunday, and will be there until Wednesday afternoon." Hermione said. "You won't have too many problems there."  
  
"What about your brothers?" Hermione said suddenly, after a moments silence.  
  
"What about them?"  
  
"Well ... don't you think they'd notice ... that you're acting differently?"  
  
Ron shrugged. "Not really. Fred and George aren't really around that much, because of their joke shop. And you know Percy ... always has his head in work. Bill and Charlie are away. It's only really me, Ginny, Mum and Dad around the house. And Ginny keeps going out all the time, too. And Mum's always busy, and so is Dad. I usually go out as well."  
  
Hermione blinked. "Erm. Okay."  
  
"Oh no." Ron groaned suddenly, flopping his head onto the table with a loud thump.  
  
"Ron!" Hermione snapped. "Don't bruise me!"  
  
"Sorry." Ron sat up again. "It's just - me and my brothers always play Quidditch on a Sunday. Always!"  
  
Hermione's eyes widened in fear. "Oh, dear God. I can't play Quidditch! I can't even get on a broomstick without falling off again!"  
  
"I know that!" Ron said. "Oh ... God ... okay, you'll just have to pretend that you've ... erm ... sprained an ankle or something."  
  
"Do you use your ankles in Quidditch?" Hermione queried.  
  
Ron thought.  
  
"Sometimes."  
  
The pair of them went quiet again. Then Hermione sat bolt upright, as though someone had just sparked up a light bulb over her head. Ron made yet another mental note: the insane genius look didn't really suit him at all.  
  
He was beginning to wonder if anything suited him.  
  
"I've got it!" she cried happily. People said, "Shhh!" so she lowered her voice to a whisper. "I've got it, Ron! I've really, really, really got it!"  
  
"Oh, good." Ron said. "Well, if you feel like sharing it at any point, I'm here ..."  
  
But Hermione was talking to herself, which she did quite often. It looked disturbing, especially as Ron was looking at himself. He looked especially schizophrenic when she did that.  
  
"I know - I think - I've got it - if it's still there - it might not be - I'll have to take the - and go to the - to get the -"  
  
"The what?" Ron hissed. "The what? WHAT IS IT?!"  
  
But Hermione didn't say. She picked up Ron's - Hermione's! - purse, and bolted out of the library with it.  
  
Ron sat there quietly, contemplating what might happen if he just ran away. And then someone coughed, and he spun around.  
  
"Hello." It was a woman. Not just any woman; she was a very pretty woman. She had long, dark, glossy, curly hair, and was a bit curvy, but in a good way. She was smiling. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting. I know what it's like to be lost in my thoughts. Sometimes I just like to sit there and think, too. But you look a bit confused. Is there anything I can help you with?"  
  
Ron's mouth dropped open. He hoped he wasn't going purple. His mind went blank for a moment and then he realised that she worked at the library, and therefore was paid to help confused looking people.  
  
"Urm -" it took Ron a few moments to say something. "Yes. I'm researching for - a - school project. We've been asked to find out if - its possible - to switch people's minds, and personalities, with their bodies. So you wake up one morning only to find that you're not in your body, if you see what I mean."  
  
"Well ..." the woman looked a bit taken aback, but she smiled. "I think ... I mean, I've never heard of such a spell ... but I could help. I suppose you'd like to look at Switching Spells. Is it for Transfiguration?"  
  
"Um, it's a general question. For - extra marks."  
  
"Ah." she smiled. "Well, if you come with me, I'll try to find some books that might be of help ..."  
  
Ron would follow her to the moon if she was happy for him to. He pottered around after her until she finally found a shelf that looked promising. "You'll want this one - and this one - and this one - this is a potions book, about switching, it could be a potion that they're after - or if they want general theories about switching spells, then you'd better take these -"  
  
She loaded him up with about ten books.  
  
"Are you okay with those?"  
  
"Yes! Of course." Ron said, trying to balance the teetering pile of books.  
  
"Okay." to his immense surprise, she picked up about twice the amount of books that he was carrying. So not only was she clever, and pretty, but she was strong, too!  
  
He let her go first, feeling that it would be more gentleman-like. She smiled and gently placed the stack of books on their table. "Okay. I think that should do you good. Check this one - I've read this one before, really helped me when I was in my sixth year at Hogwarts -" she picked up a very heavy, complicated looking book. "I've got a copy at home, it was so useful."  
  
"Thank you," Ron said. "But how did you know I'm in my sixth year at Hogwarts?"  
  
She smiled.  
  
"I've seen you in here a lot. Ever since you started at Hogwarts, I think ... you seemed so keen to learn. So much like me at your age. Anyway. I remember the first day you came here. I had just started working here. You were just little, about ten or eleven ... and I remember thinking that was what I was like at that age. So eager to find out everything that the world wanted me to know. I suppose you're Muggle-born? Sorry if you're not. It's just, you seemed so surprised with the books when you first came here. I'm Muggle-born, too, you see."  
  
Ron blinked. He had never set foot in this library before that day in his life. And then he remembered - he was Hermione.  
  
She was helping him because she thought he was Hermione.  
  
Great.  
  
"Oh. Yes. I'm Muggle-born. I like the library ... it's really big ... and helpful."  
  
She smiled.  
  
"The librarians are helpful, too ..." he said, before he could stop himself.  
  
"Thanks." she smiled. "Anyway ... I'll be over there if you need anything, okay?"  
  
And then she walked off, helping another lone person at a table.  
  
Deciding that he might as well play the part of Hermione properly - and besides, thinking about the librarian woman was too painful - he took some of the parchment and opened the book that she had suggested and copied out likely looking passages. He was quite into this, because it wasn't necessary for him to think all the confusing thoughts that kept nagging at him all the time, and was lost in his note taking when Hermione came back, holding a carrier bag and beaming.  
  
"I found it!" she cried. The librarian lady said, "shh!" and Ron blushed.  
  
"Shh." he muttered.  
  
"What? Oh. Don't pay attention to her. Anyway." she smiled. "I found a walkie talkie!"  
  
"Keep your voice down." Ron muttered, glancing at the librarian girl, who was now looking annoyed.  
  
Hermione ignored him. "I'll explain it when we get back to my house. I've decided, it's better if we go there, I know how to work the computer. And Mum and Dad wont mind. We can say its for school."  
  
The librarian was walking over. Ron hid his face behind the book in shame.  
  
"Excuse me," she said to Hermione, "can you be quiet, please? This is a library. If you can't respect the rules, you can leave."  
  
"Sorry." Hermione muttered, going red. Ron suddenly realised.  
  
The woman thought that Ron Weasley was the rude one.  
  
Oh, God.  
  
"Stuck up bag." Hermione muttered when she walked off. Ron blinked. "She's been here ever since the first time I came here. Wearing daft, tight jeans and tops ... she looks ridiculous ... she's probably only here for the money, I bet she doesn't care about libraries one little bit ..."  
  
"For your information," Ron whispered furiously, "she's really clever, and she found all of these books for me. Because she thought I was you. She's seen you! Since you were only a little boffin, and you were surprised by all the books, and she gathered that you were a Muggle-born because she is, too. And she likes you and respects you because you work all the time. So if I were you I'd keep your voice down if you're going to complain about things you don't understand!"  
  
Hermione looked completely taken aback, as though Ron had just slapped her around the face. She went bright red and looked at the floor, and didn't say anything for a long while. Ron took a deep breath. Where had that come from?  
  
Maybe he had a bit of Hermione's feisty-ness in him.  
  
Who knew.  
  
With a sigh, he closed the books and said, "Shall we get some of these out, and leave?"  
  
Hermione nodded, still not saying anything. Ron got out ten of the books from the library; usually you were only allowed five, but it seemed that Hermione had been there so many times that she was allowed more.  
  
"My God, you are a boffin!" Ron said in amazement once they were back outside. Hermione scowled and wrapped her coat around her. After a long silence, Ron said, "Well ... are you going to show me your idea, or not?"  
  
Hermione brightened. "Yes. We'll go back to my house. We can walk, it's not too far."  
  
Not too far! Ron thought, an hour later. Not too far! That's the longest I've walked in about five years. He sent a look over to Hermione, who was walking along briskly as though they had just been for a nice stroll in the park.   
  
But they eventually got to Hermione's house. There was a note stuck to the fridge door:  
  
Dear Hermione,  
  
We've gone shopping to get a new quilt cover and a few bits and bobs. We'll be back soon.  
  
Love Mum and Dad.  
  
"Oh." Hermione said. "Well, at least we can practice with the walkie talkies in peace."  
  
Ron hung around and asked questions, wanting to know what Hermione was on about. But every time he asked something, she snapped at him, so he went to get a glass of water from the kitchen and left her in peace.  
  
A while later, she rushed in, grinning from ear to ear.  
  
"I've got it!" she cried. She handed Ron a small, black contraption. "It's a walkie talkie. You press that button and you talk into it, and I'll hear it on the other end."  
  
Ron blinked.  
  
"Go upstairs and we'll see if it works."  
  
Ron did so, being too tired to complain about her bossing him around. He walked along the hallway and into her room and flopped onto her bed, waited for a few moments, and then jumped as he heard the thing crackle.  
  
"Hermione to Ron, Hermione to Ron, over."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes and said, "Ron to Hermione, Ron to Hermione, that sounds sad, over."  
  
"Shut up, Ron. Over."  
  
He decided that he couldn't be bothered to move, and he would let her come to him. He sighed and looked around. Something on the bedside table caught his eye. It was blue with stitching in it, like Hermione's purse. Only it said "Hermione's Diary."  
  
"Ron, are you there? Things are looking up! Come downstairs! Over."  
  
Ron grinned.  
  
Things were looking up indeed ... 


End file.
